Page 30 of Darkness Tempt Me
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
Drake closes in, moving toward me with a predator’s grace. My heart pounds in my ribs, but I stand my ground. I’m so sick and tired of being intimidated by these assholes. I remember all the different lessons I learned in my self-defense classes—the classes that Blackwood Investments provides to all their employees for free.
I remember the countless conversations I’ve had with my therapists, and all the years I’ve worked at healing. I remember I’m strong, I’m brave, and, most importantly, I’m a survivor. Some too-white veneered, over-Botoxed asshole, who only has this job because of his daddy, will not take everything away from me. Not again.
“You know, I see the way you stare at your boss.” He tsks, stepping even closer. “It’s not very professional. But I bet he doesn’t give you the time of day.”
I grit my teeth, eyes bouncing over to the door. Where the hell is Mavik? I take a step back.
“Come work for me instead. I can double your salary and add on a few…extrabenefits.”
No fucking way.I want to scream the words in his face, but they’re lodged in my throat.
Drake reaches out and touches a few of my blond curls. I try to pull away, but my back meets the wall. His grip on my hair tightens, and I swallow hard, willing myself to scream. To yell. To make any kind of fucking noise.
“Get your filthy fucking hands off my fiancé,” Mavik roars from the doorway. He storms forward and shoves Drake away from me. Suddenly, I can breathe. The air I’ve been desperately reaching for rushes into my lungs.
Mavik tangles his fingers with mine.
Drake stumbles back, shocked. “I’m so sorry,” he says before narrowing his eyes. “He never told me he was taken.”
Mavik’s grip on my hand tightens. “It’s recent,” he grits out. “Peyton was free to date whoever he wanted before, but now that we’re engaged, no one is allowed to even look at him.”
Holy fuck.
This time, my heart is racing for a completely different reason. The fact that he’s using all that untapped power to defend me is hot as hell. It’s almost terrifying in its intensity and screams redflags. Instead, my foolish, reckless cock grows hard under all this attention. Fiancé? Did he mean it?
Drake puts his hands up in surrender and chuckles nervously. The darkness swirling in Mavik’s eyes is clearly intimidating him.
Drake walks over to the conference table and slides the manila folder toward us. “Can I assume this won’t be affecting our deal?”
“Proposal,” Mavik corrects. “There is no deal until I meet with your father.”
Drake nods. “I’ll email him a copy of this today, then. It was nice seeing you, Mavik. And I apologize for flirting with your fiancé.” Drake leaves the room, and the tension leaves my body.
Before I can thank Mavik, he whirls around, anger still radiating off him in waves. He shoves me against the wall. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I whisper.
“Good.” His body presses against mine.
My fingers curl around the opening of his suit jacket, tugging him closer. “Did you mean it?” I ask. “Am I your fiancé?”
“If we do this,” he says, deep honeyed voice rough with want. “You will move in. You will not date anyone else. You will not fuck anyone else. You will not so much as look at anyone else but me. Do you understand?”
A flush creeps across my cheeks. With my pale skin, it’s always so telling, so I know he can see it. It only fuels my embarrassment even more, causing the heat to spread all over my body. I nod, images of me fucking my boss making me hard. I nod again, more eagerly this time.
“Good boy,” he says, smirking. Those words said out loud, and in that tone, make me whimper. We’re still pressed against the wall, my body trapped and completely at his mercy. His eyestravel the length of my body with a possessive sweep before meeting my eyes.
There’s that dark, intense stare again. I swear, the look ignites my soul.
Chapter nineteen
Mavik
What the fuck have I done?It’s the damn question of the week and has been filtering through my mind every few minutes since agreeing to marry my assistant. My burner phone rings in my suit jacket. I snarl. It’s the damn phone’s fault I’m in this mess in the first place.
Okay, obviously it isn’t the phone’s fault. It’s Hunter and his shitty timing’s fault. If I hadn’t made a promise that I would drop everything anytime that phone rings, I would have been in that room with Drake. I would have been protecting Peyton, not walking in on whatever the hell I walked in on and claiming my assistant like a damn caveman.
